


Crazy In Love

by GallifreyanHeroine



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanHeroine/pseuds/GallifreyanHeroine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aerelin knows she's the last of her kind, but she had no idea just how unique she was. In spite of the massive destiny that's just been placed on her shoulders, she manages to find her sanity and safety in the most unlikely of places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The journey from Whiterun to Windhelm wasn’t as far as most in Skyrim, but that didn’t mean it was any less perilous. While Aerelin had never personally made the journey, but the stories were many. Bandits had always been a problem, as well as the wild beasts that roam the land, but now with the return of dragons, almost no one wanted to travel unless they had to. The Greybeards must have had great faith in her to send her all this way for an old horn. A loud voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked ahead to see a man with a damaged wagon. A wheel lay off to one side, and the man was jumping around lamenting his misfortune. To her surprise, he appeared to be an Imperial jester; the first of his kind she’d seen since her arrival here. 

“Excuse me, ser, do you require assistance?” Aerelin would never just let someone stay out here on a cold Skyrim night, no matter how strange. The man spun towards her, a grin lighting his face as he began to bounce up and down. Through his rapid speech, she managed to catch that his name was Cicero and he was moving his mother’s body. A glance at the wagon seemed to confirm his story; the crate inside was quite large, and there was only one, so he wasn’t some sort of merchant. He begged her to convince a nearby farmer to assist him, since the man had been turned down already, and she agreed. It would add a bit of time to her journey, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

“No.” Loreius crossed his arms in front of his chest, and Aerelin blinked in shock. Most people were more than eager to give and receive help around Whiterun; this man seemed to think he was above it. Then she saw it, the crack in his armor; he was scared, though she wasn’t quite sure of what.

“What do you mean, no? You can’t just strand him out there.” She argued, careful to keep her voice calm.

“Don’t get me wrong, I normally would. There’s just something…not right about that man. Something dark.” Nords and their superstitions. “Besides, I don’t believe that’s really his mother in there. Could be illegal weapons or Skooma. I’m not gonna chance it.” She arched a brow, feigning polite disinterest.

“In that case, perhaps I could leave him here. I’m sure you won’t mind if he stays there for awhile. After all, I do have to get to Windhelm, and couldn’t possibly return to Whiterun until I was done there.” The man seemed to go a bit pale, and she held back a smile that she’d had him. “Have a nice night.”

“Wait, wait!” She looked up at the farmer and he sighed. “Fine. Tell Cicero I’ll be down in a moment while I get my tools.” She gave a small smile and a nod before heading back out.

“Well? Will Loreius help poor Cicero?” The jester was giving her such a hopeful look and Aerelin couldn’t help but feel a bit accomplished.

“Yes, he’s just getting his tools now.” Without warning, Cicero had gathered Aerelin into his arms and was spinning them around in some bizarre jig, singing a song she didn’t recognize. She gave a laugh despite herself, briefly remembering why she enjoyed jesters and bards so much. When he finally released her, he pushed a small sack into her hand. Judging by its weight and sound, it was gold.

“Here. Clinky, shiny gold for the kind stranger.” Giving her thanks, she made to leave. “Wait! Can Cicero have the name of the kind woman who saved him and his mother?” She glanced back in surprise.

“Aerelin.” With that, she made her way to Windhelm, thoughts of the jester Cicero leaving her thoughts the closer she came to the horn she’d been sent to retrieve.


	2. Chapter 2

Her destiny was certainly a big one. The biggest in all of Tamriel, if Delphine and Esbern were to be believed. Big enough that a part of her just wanted to escape it for awhile, which was just what she did by joining the Guild in Riften. That had been no easy task either; the Guild Master had ended up betraying all of them, and trying to kill Aerelin twice. While she had thought her and Brynjolf, another thief, had been getting close, that seemed to change with Karliah’s arrival. The two other Nightingales were always with each other after the fight with Mercer, and it got to the point that Aerelin was the one tasked with returning the Skeleton Key. A vain part of her hoped this would find her more in Nocturnal’s favor. It was when she returned to Riften that the first letter came.

“Ah, there you are.” The friendly voice behind her had come as a surprise, and Aerelin had nearly jumped out of her skin. Turning, she eyed the man curiously. He had a large smile and a bag that seemed to be filled with missives. “Got some things for you.” He rummaged through and finally handed her two letters. “Well, that’s it.” The courier turned and wandered back towards the inn, leaving Aerelin to wonder about his faculties. The first letter was a note from Whiterun, asking her assistance with some problem or another and a promise of gold. The second was the true surprise; a letter from Cicero the Jester. Pushing a lock of dark hair from her face, she opened it quickly and scanned the contents. It seemed Cicero had found a home after all for him and his mother in Dawnstar, and had wanted to thank her once again. It brought a smile to hear of his adventures on his way there, and she was happy he’d made it safely. 

“Well, what’s got you in such a pleasant mood?” Brynjolf’s voice made her jump, and she was quick to stuff the note in her pocket. Aerelin found herself grateful that the Nightingale armor she wore had so many of them. He arched a brow at her movements, and she kept her hand over the pocket lest he attempt to swipe it off her.

“Just someone asking for help. Likely gonna pay pretty well too.” She gave a confident smile even as she backed away. She would leave for Whiterun immediately and send a reply letter from there. As she went to buy supplies from the Bee and Barb, Aerelin felt a small thrill of excitement at possibly making a new friend in Cicero. 

The Jarl in Whiterun had simply wanted her assistance taking care of some bandits nearby, and it didn’t take nearly as long as she originally figured. To make everything better, she also came away several hundred gold richer, and that was before the Jarl paid her. It was with a big smile she purchased a parcel of land in the hold, and had a few men hired to build her a home. Not wanting to go back to Riften just yet and face her fellow Nightingales, she hired a room at the Bannered Mare to wait out the construction of her home. She took the time to write out her reply to Cicero, wanting it to be just right. done, she found a courier in the inn and asked him to deliver it to Dawnstar. It took a portion of what was left of her savings, but it was definitely worth it in the end. Besides, she could always find a nearby cave or ruin to loot for more gold. It took all of a week for a reply to arrive at the inn, and Aerelin couldn’t help the thrill of excitement as she opened it on the way to her room. Cicero mentioned visits and her bringing sweet rolls, which she made a mental note to do someday. She drafted her reply before going to bed that night, dreams of jesters and sweet rolls dancing in her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the months, the letters continued, even as she moved and made her way across Skyrim. The Blades and others were always quick to remind her of her destiny, even if they didn’t mean it to be pressuring. The idea that the entirety of Nirn rested on her shoulders made her sick to her stomach, but she found that taking things one contract or favor at a time made everything more manageable. Cicero’s letters kept her grounded, with their looping letters and manic topics. When the child in Windhelm had asked her help with a notorious woman at the Honorhall Orphanage, she hadn’t thought twice about fulfilling his request. A part of her had wanted to talk him out of his request, but when she saw how Grelod had treated the children, the contract had been only too easy. Aerelin had made a mental note to come back and see what she could do to make their lives easier. A courier caught her as she entered Windhelm, and any excitement she felt was quickly tempered by the ominous message on the parchment. A single handprint and the words “WE KNOW” comprised the missive, and she was quick to stuff it in her bag. The very next morning, she woke with a headache in a strange shack with none other than a Dark Brotherhood assassin. A life for a life; it was how she found herself a part of a whole new family.

“So, you’re the newest member of our dwindling, dysfunctional little Family. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” The Redguard Nazir smiled down at her, and she felt instantly welcome. If nothing else, it would be nice to have someone to turn to; her dealings with the Guild as of late had been sparse at best.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Aerelin offered a hand, though he didn’t take it. Instead, he shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Save the niceties for now.” She dropped her hand, her smile fading just a bit. “I have no intention of getting invested in someone who may be dead tomorrow. If you’re still breathing in a few weeks, I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends.” His tone seemed so light she nearly thought he was joking, until she saw the truth of his words in his eyes. It was clear that not many passed through initiation in their Family, but she did not intend to leave this world quite so quickly.

“Astrid said you’d have some work for me.” Perhaps if she kept things focused on business for now, Nazir would warm up to her. It had certainly worked for Vex and Tonila at the Flagon. Her own hands moved to her hips out of instinctively as he raised a brow.

“Did she, now? Well, as it turns out, there are a few lingering contracts we haven’t had the chance to complete just yet.” Aerelin briefly wondered just how many contracts this faction tended to take on. “And more, dribbling in from time to time. I’ll assign them to you as they become available. To be completed at your leisure.” That certainly caught her by surprise. She had assumed there would be strict time limits or specific locations to commit the crimes. 

“Sounds simple enough.” And in truth, they had been. He’d been right to tell her they wouldn’t be glamourous; these weren’t nobles, but simple folk who’d crossed the wrong person. It certainly said a lot about the people of Skyrim when it came to how they viewed others. The third one didn’t even have anything, was just a poor beggar holed up in a ruined house. That was the only one that made her feel any remorse, and she made sure his was quick and painless. Upon her return to the Sanctuary, she heard an all too familiar voice, causing her steps to quicken.

“Oh, what a kind and wise wizard you are. Sure to earn our Lady’s favor.” Cicero stood with what appeared to be a coffin, surrounded by the other members of the Family. Her eyes stayed trained on her friend, realizing that she hadn’t sent or received a letter in a couple of weeks. Was that due to his travel from Dawnstar? It was an awfully long journey; if he’d let her know, she would have happily accompanied him. Then again, she wasn’t sure she would have told him about her induction into a group of assassins. 

“You and the Night Mother are, of course, welcome here, Cicero. And you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper. Understood…husband?” The man in question grumbled his assent to the order, even as Aerelin tried to determine what a Keeper was or who the Night Mother was. 

“Oh, yes yes yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“But,” Astrid held up a hand, a warning in her tone and in her eyes, “make no mistake. I am the leader of this Sanctuary. My word is law. Are we clear on that point?” Cicero gave an eager nod.

“Oh yes, mistress. Perfectly! You’re the boss.” His tone seemed almost mocking, though it wasn’t so different from his usual manic tone. It may have all been her imagination, however, as no one else seemed to think anything of it. The Family began to disperse and Astrid approached her.

“Ah, there you are. Good, I was done speaking with that muttering fool anyway.” If Astrid expected Aerelin to agree with her, she had another thing coming. It was clear he wasn’t just a visitor; Festus hadn’t said one word to Aerelin, but had nothing but deferential respect. “We’ve got some business to discuss.” As Astrid led her away to discuss the contract, Aerelin couldn’t help but look back to her friend. The sooner she finished this, the sooner she could come back to speak with her pen pal.


	4. Chapter 4

Before Aerelin considered the new contract, she made her way over to the large coffin in the main room and its jester. She wondered if he would be happy to see her; surely, he thought of her as a friend too? Cicero stood with his back to her, looking up at the large coffin and muttering quietly to himself. She cleared her throat, causing him to turn.

“Hello there, stranger. Are you a part of our Family as well?” His gaze moved over her armor quickly, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes.” A flicker of recognition in his gaze had her pulling her hood and mask off. ”Hello again.” There was a moment’s pause of silence before he began to laugh, pulling her into a hug.

“Kind Aerelin! Oh, how Cicero has missed his friend!” He finally released her, looking her over. “You’re looking much more deadly than last we met.” She chuckled, nodding a bit.

“I’ve found myself a member of a few groups. There are certainly perks.” He nodded, tucking his hands behind his back. 

“You didn’t write me about all of that. If I had known you were Brotherhood like myself, I would have invited you to join us.”

“I’m still fairly new.” Aerelin was cut off by a wave from Astrid and a call for her to get on the contract already. With an apologetic smile, she pulled her hood and mask back on and made her way out the door.

Upon her return, Aerelin was cold, soaked, and in absolutely no mood for anything outside of some dry clothes and a book by the fire. The contact had ended up asking for two deaths near Windhelm, and on Aerelin’s way back from Markarth, a storm had appeared. She’d walked in the rain for hours after that just to get back to the Sanctuary. Approaching Astrid, she reported her kill, only to be greeted by the paranoia of her leader. She looked around before dropping her voice low, telling Aerelin all about how Cicero was plotting against her and they were all in danger. Aerelin thought it best to stay quiet; in her current mood, it took everything she had in her not to snap and call the woman an idiot. It was almost her undoing when Astrid asked her to hide in the Night Mother’s coffin.

“Are you serious? Surely that’s some sort of issue with the Mother herself.” Astrid shook her head, crossing her arms across her chest and giving a challenging look. Aerelin sighed and nodded her assent, too tired and sore to fight this woman. It would have to come at another time. Instead, Aerelin sighed and made her way to Cicero’s room, slipping in silently. The lock on the coffin was ridiculously easy, and she made a note to help Cicero update it, and climbed in. Instead of the smell of death she’d expected after encountering so many Draugr, she smelled herbs and flowers. It was a cloying scent, and made shutting herself inside a bit less creepy. It wasn’t long before she heard Cicero muttering, his voice muffled by the thick metal of the coffin. It soon became obvious he wasn’t conspiring with anyone but the Night Mother. When the voice began in her head, Aerelin almost screamed. It claimed to be the Night Mother, and asked her to speak with what sounded like a client for the Brotherhood. She wondered what Cicero would think of all of this.

“Tell Cicero, ‘Darkness rises when silence dies.’” With no further instruction, Aerelin found herself tumbling out of the coffin as the door was opened, landing on her hip on the floor.

“What? What treachery! Defiler! Debaser and defiler!” She looked up to see Cicero standing above her, pure rage on his features as he drew his dagger. The pain in her hip was forgotten as her heart began to pound, knowing if he attacked she would need to fight back. “You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother’s tomb! Explain yourself!” She blinked, a bit lost in the whirlwind. “Speak, worm!”

“T-The Night Mother! She spoke to me.” There’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes before disbelief replaced it.

“She…spoke to you?” The rage was back, but it seemed more intense now, and the grip on his dagger seemed to tighten. “More treachery! More trickery and deceit! You lie!” Aerelin opened her mouth to tell him what she’d said, but nothing came out as he continued to rant. “The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener. And there is…no…LISTENER!” He raised the blade, the black color shining in the candlelight. 

“Wait! Darkness rises when silence dies!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she had a Thu’um ready, not wanting to use it but knowing she may need to. Cicero seemed to freeze in place, staring down at her with wide eyes. Aerelin took the opportunity, climbing to her feet. “That’s what she told me to tell you.”

“She…she said that? She said those words…to you? ‘Darkness rises when silence dies?’” Aerelin gave a nod, eyes trained on the blade still in his hand. Cicero may be a jester, but every member of the Brotherhood was a deadly killer, and he was no exception. “But those are the words. The Binding Words. Written in the Keeping Tomes.” Slowly, the knife was lowered, though the shocked look never left his face. “The signal so I would know. Mother’s only way of talking to sweet Cicero…” He jumped, and her hand found her own dagger, but he simply began to dance, a smile sweeping over his face. “Then…it’s true! She is back! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener!” He continued to dance, leaving Aerelin confused and tense in front of him. “She has chosen you!” He gave a laugh, taking her hands in his own. There was excitement and hope in his gaze, but nothing to suggest he was going to kill her. “All hail the Listener!”

Astrid burst in then, and as Cicero explained what had happened, Aerelin glanced back at the Night Mother, thinking over what this new title would mean. She’d collected a few books about the Brotherhood and made a mental note to retrieve them from her house in Whiterun. Astrid and Cicero seemed to have a few words before Astrid stepped over to check on the other woman. Her concern didn’t last long, before her paranoia came back as she stated that no one’s word was above her own, even the Listener. As she left, Cicero gave Aerelin a look; her only response was to shake her head. It wasn’t worth fighting Astrid over just yet. Instead, she made her way to her room, changing and settling in with a book as planned.


	5. Chapter 5

Nazir had managed to come up with a couple of contracts for Aerelin to carry out, though she took her time. It wasn't as though they were pressing, and there was Guild work to attend to. It was simple really; just a brief mission to convince the world that the Guild was at full strength and still to be feared. As she left Riften with somewhat heavier pockets, she decided a trip to Solitude wouldn't be out of place either. Those contracts were on the way anyway, and it felt like a two birds, one stone situation. The kills were simple enough, and she didn't even need to clean her armor afterwords. The fletcher in Solitude gave her armor a cursory look before pulling his best stores out, leaving her with a whole new set of ebony and daedric arrows. How he came upon them, she'll never know, but she was happy to keep the gold flowing as long as he did. By the time she returned to the Sanctuary, she could practically feel the excited energy in the air, and for whatever reason it didn't feel good to her. Astrid met her in the entryway, giving her a calculating look.

“I've thought about what you claim the Night Mother said. Go, find this Amaund Motierre in Volunruud.” The details were given to her, as though Aerelin hadn't been the one to receive them in the first place. With a sigh, Aerelin nodded, moving deeper into the Sanctuary to gather more supplies for her new journey. She didn't notice anyone attempting to speak with her, so caught up in their work as they were, and she certainly didn't notice the Keeper watching her from afar. She didn't hear him approach as she packed food into her bags, as well as potions that Babette had had made. 

“Ah, Listener!” Jumping nearly out of her skin, Aerelin spun with her hand already on her blade. Cicero smiled down at her, clearly not at all disturbed that he had nearly been stabbed. “How are you?” She blinked, hand moving slowly from her weapon as she relaxed. She gave what was likely a tight smile as she secured her bag.

“I'm quite fine, Cicero, thank you.” His own smile never wavered, but she saw a glint in his eye that gave her pause. He stepped closer, lowering his voice a bit.

“Cicero is smart, Cicero knows when his friends aren't 'fine', dear Listener. You will tell Cicero if anything troubles you, yes?” In that moment, she realized that maybe her friend wasn't as mad as he wanted everyone to believe. She gave a mute nod, and that seemed to satisfy him, for he gave his own nod and turned to leave. Aerelin stayed rooted to the spot for some time before mentally shaking herself and leaving on her errand, eager to get this over with. If she were lucky, it would be a simple enough contract.

 

Of course, Aerelin's luck hadn't been the best since her arrival in Skyrim. As Astrid seemed to take glee in the idea of murdering the Emperor, all Aerelin could think of was how much responsibility she suddenly had again. A part of her wanted to flee, but she knew the Brotherhood would find her. No, she would have to step up to the plate, and she wasn't dumb; she knew she'd have to handle her other priorities soon as well. Holding back a sigh as she received new orders from Gabriella, she bumped into Cicero once again near the main room. Everyone was going about their own business, and Cicero was quick to take her arm and lead her up to his room where the Night Mother resided. He shut the door before pulling her again, gently guiding her to a chair.

“Cicero, I have to get going.” He crouched in front of her, any trace of his usual mad merriness gone In fact, she had never seen him look so grim or so lucid, and it gave her near chills. “Cicero?”

“You must listen to me closely, kind Aerelin. Cicero does not trust this Astrid.” His eyes clouded over darkly at the mention of the matriarch's name. “Go, complete your contract as the Night Mother has ordered, but promise to be careful.” She could only give him a confused look and he took her hand tightly in his, not once releasing her gaze. “Promise.” There was a tinge of desperation in his voice and she swallowed.

“Cicero, would you prefer to come with me? If you're so concerned?” He shook his head, still not dropping his gaze from hers.

“Cicero must stay here and take care of the Night Mother.” He stood, looking down at her. The concern hadn't faded from his gaze and she stood slowly, squeezing his hand.

“I'll be safe, Cicero. I promise.” That seemed to relax him a bit. He pulled her into a hug then, and it took her a moment to return the sentiment. As he pulled away, his usual mad smile was in place and she gave a smile. Oh, if only the poor jester knew just what all she'd need to be safe from.


	6. Chapter 6

The Sanctuary was in chaos when she arrived back, with everyone surrounding Veezara who lay on the ground. There was blood around him and on his uniform, and Aerelin felt a sick feeling in her stomach when she didn't see Cicero or Arnbjorn anywhere. Astrid was quick to drag her aside, a fierce fire in the other woman's gaze. With orders to find out where Cicero may have run off to, Aerelin found herself searching in his sleeping area. He had quite a few journals, and she managed to read them in order in spite of herself. It near broke her heart and when she finally had the information Astrid wanted, she almost didn't want to share. The other woman had made her orders very clear: find Cicero and kill him for this betrayal. Aerelin swallowed back her discomfort and nodded, leaving the Sanctuary immediately. The horse that Astrid provided was certainly unique, and Shadowmere had reached Dawnstar in half the time it normally took. Arnbjorn lay wounded, and Aerelin gave him a healing potion to get him home. Nervously, she approached the door to the ancient Sanctuary.

“What is life's greatest illusion?” The raspy voice that emanated from the door caused a chill down her spine, and she drew her bow slowly.

“Innocence, my brother.” The door opened with a welcome, and she slipped inside. Creeping down the stairs, she was surprised it didn't smell more musty, though Cicero must have been using it for some time.

“Listener? Is that you?” She halted at the bottom of the stairs, eyes darting around but not seeing Cicero anywhere. “Oh, I knew you'd come. Send the best to defeat the best. Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn't slay sly Cicero.” Deciding he must have heard the door answer her, she pressed on. Aerelin remained on high alert, not wanting such a decorated member of the Brotherhood manage to sneak up on her. A ghost stood just inside the second doorway, and she was quick to shoot it dead. “Oh, but this isn't at all what Mother would want. You kill the Keeper or I kill the Listener? Now that's madness.” He sounded weak and somewhat far away, but the echo told her he could truly be anywhere. There was no telling how large this Sanctuary was.

As she continued on, she nearly missed the tripwire, triggering it instantly and freezing her in her tracks. Spears sprang from the wall, reaching across the wooden bridge that led to the next room. She clenched her teeth as she watched them continue, back and forth.

“Ouch! Pointy, pointy! My home is well defended. I always have been a stickler for details. Get it? 'Stick-ler'.” In spite of the tense situation, she couldn't stop a small chuckle at the stupid pin. Cicero laughed out loud. “Oh, I slay me.” Carefully, Aerelin made it across the bridge with only a couple scratches, easily taking out the ghost that stood on the other side. Down the stairs, she found two more, shooting a lamp down into a puddle of oil to incinerate them. As the flames died and she continued, Cicero coughed out. “You're...still alive. Cicero respects the Listener's abilities, of course, but could you at least slow down a bit? I'm not what I used to be. Hah.” The barked laugh was harsher than normal, causing her to speed up a bit. A snow filled tunnel soon greeted her, and she hesitated. “Brr, chilly! You'll enjoy this. Not an original part of the Sanctuary, per se. Let's call it a forced addition.” Frowning, she moved forward. “Forced by what? Oh, come and see!” The troll was a surprise, and she took more effort than she'd planned taking it down.

Two more ghosts, and several quips from Cicero later, she felt she must be coming to the end. Her cuts from the spears hurt more with every step and that troll had left more than just a mark on her. She came to a shut door, taking a deep breath as she heard him from the other side.

“And now we come to the end of out play. The grand finale.” Straightening as much as she could, Aerelin opened the door slowly, wary of any other creative traps Cicero may have set. He lay on the floor near the fireplace, a pool of blood slowly growing around him and causing her heart to leap in her throat. Pulling her cowl down, her gaze met his, and she could see the pain radiating from his eyes.

“You caught me! I surrender!” His laugh sounded weaker by the moment, and she stepped closer slowly. He watched her closely, eyes bouncing from her own to her bow and back. She remained silent, inching ever closer. “Oh, you prefer to listen, eh? Of course, of course! The Listener listens!” He paused before continuing. “A joke! A funny joke! I get it. Then listen to this – don't kill me. Let poor Cicero live!” She stopped a few feet from him, keeping a safe distance between them. “I attacked the strumpet Astrid, I did! And I'd do it again! Anything for our Mother.” He shifted, as though trying to get comfortable while bleeding out on the stone. Aerelin wanted nothing more than to drop to her knees and heal him. “Return to the pretender, tell her I'm dead! Tell her you strangled me with my own intestines.” A laugh, though nothing about this struck her as funny. “But lie! Yes, lie! Lie and let me live!” She could see the desperation in his eyes as she started towards him again.

“Oh, Cicero...” He looked up at her warily as she moved around him, turning her back to the fire as she settled near his head. Gently, she reached towards his wound, carefully prodding around the edge and watching him flinch. It looked more like claws than a bite, and though it was deep, she could help him a bit. Still worried he may attack, she waved her hand over his wound, feeling the drain on her magicka as the wound began to heal under a golden glow. He watched with wide eyes as his wound closed. “My friend, you will live. But please, do not come back to the Sanctuary.” She pulled her hand away, shifting to rummage through her bag. “I cannot protect you from them all. I will care for the Night Mother while you're gone.” Slowly, he sat up a bit, still looking dazed and exhausted. Handing him a smaller bag she kept her food and some healing potions in. Pushing it into his hands, she caught his gaze.

“Listener...” He seemed at a loss for words, and she wondered if he truly thought she would kill him. He was her friend, after all; more than any at the Sanctuary, and even some in the Guild. Without another word, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before taking her leave, not once looking back. Cicero was a smart man; he'd be fine as long as he avoided the others. The ride back to Falkreath was long and arduous, and Astrid descended on her as soon as she entered.

“Well? The jester, is he dead?” Aerelin gave a simple grim nod, and Astrid seemed to relax into a mixture of glee and relief. In only a matter of moments, Astrid had her back on track to kill the Emperor, though Aerelin couldn't help but wonder what would become of her closest friend.


	7. Chapter 7

The plan to kill the Emperor was a failure. Aerelin's eyes darted from one guard to the next as Maro bragged over the turning of one of her own. She knew she would worry about the traitor later; for now, there were three guards advancing on her with a murderous gleam in their eyes. Taking a few steps back, she did her best to get them standing somewhat near each other, taking a deep breath.

 

“FUS RO DAH!” With a chorus of screams, the men flew through the air, slamming with bone crushing force against the stones. As soon as their feet left the ground she was running, sprinting towards the side of the bridge. In one leap, she was on the railing; her next propelled her far from the edge, hurtling towards the water below. With another deep breath, knowing it would drain her mentally and physically, she Shouted again, feeling the power of the Thu'um fill her. “FEIM ZII GRON!” She never actually felt herself hit the water, and she was quick to begin her run back to Falkreath. She smelled smoke long before she made it back to the Sanctuary, and was already creeping through the bushes by the time she spotted the first royal guards. Killing as she slipped through the Sanctuary, she was grateful for the cowl over her nose and mouth that filtered most of the smoke. She found Nazir, easily killing the guard he was battling, and leading him away. 

 

“Embrace me...” The voice of the Night Mother filled her mind, drowning out the roar of the fire or the sounds of battle. Aerelin wove her way to the coffin, only briefly hesitating before climbing inside and shutting the door. The floral scent wrapped around her, a bittersweet reminder of the friend she'd likely never see again, and she passed out. Not too long after, Nazir and Babette released her to finish her search for the traitor. She wasn't as surprised as the others to find it was Astrid, and it wasn't hard to fulfill the older woman's request for death. 

 

“By Sithis, what a mess.” Nazir’s voice was rough from the smoke as they stood outside the smoldering Sanctuary, covered in soot. “I guess this is the end.”

 

“Not exactly. The Night Mother has spoken to me again.” Already Aerelin was tugging her hood on, looking around for any sign of Shadowmere. Both Nazir and Babette gave her a shocked look.

 

“What? Well - what did she say?”

 

“I must speak with Amaund Motierre.”

 

“Amaund Motierre? But that would mean…”

 

“The contract is still on.” Aerelin looked up, gaze trained on the older assassin. “The true Emperor must be assassinated.” They both nodded, and Aerelin hung around long enough to plan to meet her dwindling Family in Dawnstar before finding Shadowmere and riding for Whiterun, having a fairly good idea where to find Motierre. 

 

Titus Mede had been a surprisingly willing victim. One by one,, Aerelin had taken out the guards on the ship, before finding herself conversing civilly with the Emperor of Tamriel regarding his death. All he had asked was that she repaid the “kindness” to whomever had paid for the hit, and she was more than happy to oblige. After finishing the contract completely, she shuffled her way back to the new Sanctuary, bone tired but satisfied with a job well done. Only Delvin at the Guild would believe all of this, and honestly she couldn’t wait to tell him. When Nazir suggested she ask Delvin to outfit the new place with the payment, she was excited to get going, only sleeping for a couple of hours before heading out again. She gave a bow of her head to the Night Mother as she passed, a pang in her chest at the memory of her friend. She’d only made it two steps out the door when a familiar voice brought her out of her thoughts.

 

“Ah, Listener!” Her gaze snapped up to see Cicero standing in front of her, a smirk on his face. She began to smile, happy to see her friend was alive and well.

 

“Cicero!” She halted in her tracks at the dangerous glint in his eyes, noting his hand falling to his dagger sheath.

 

“Oh yes, it is Cicero! You were a fool to spare me.” Her heart sank and her smile fell at his words, fear solidifying her stomach to a stone. “What, did you think I would be grateful? Cicero should be Listener, not you.” Her hand twitched as she prepared to have to kill her friend, her lips pressing together tightly. “Now you will die!” There was a couple moments of silence before he began to laugh, letting go of his dagger and laughing. “Ahhh….gotcha!” She blinked, relaxing just a touch. “Oh, Listener, you should see the look on your face!” He continued to laugh, and she could swear he was nearly in tears over the twisted joke. Slowly, the humor began to infect her, and she gave a chuckle as she relaxed completely. “Oh, Cicero has returned! Not to kill the kind Listener, but to serve, until one of us dies horribly in service to our Mother. Best friends forever.” Aerelin couldn’t hold back any longer, reaching her jester in two strides and pulling him into a tight hug. He seemed shocked at first before returning the gesture just as tightly, his face buried in her hair. There was silence as they greeted each other before Cicero finally pulled away to look down at her with a soft smile. “I’ll make myself at home in the Sanctuary. I’m sure Mother needs...tending.” With that, he released her fully and made his way inside, leaving her to look after him and smile at the idea that her Family was back together now. Turning, she mounted Shadowmere and left for Riften, intent to get their home finished and move on with their lives past their tragedy.


	8. Chapter 8

Aerelin stayed with the Guild for a week, handling her business regarding some new recruits and a stack of contracts on her desk. For an illegal outfit, there was a surprising amount of paperwork. She trained a few of the new people and talked with the veterans, careful to avoid her fellow Nightingales, and before long she was making her way back towards Dawnstar. She was stopped along the way by a courier, pausing long enough to find she had to change her course towards the Reach to meet with Esbern and Delphine. They had a few tasks for her, and by the time she was actually able to make it back to her home, she was hurt and exhausted. Shuffling down the steps, she was grateful everyone appeared to be asleep, grabbing some linens on her way to her room. She was distracted by taking care of herself when she looked up to see Cicero in the doorway, giving her a concerned look.

“Oh, Listener! What happened?” Though he was careful to keep his voice down, the usual exuberance was still there. He seemed to hesitate in the doorway until she waved him in.

“I’m okay, Cicero. Make sure the door is closed.” He did as asked, moving to her side. His hands hovered over a deep scratch she’d gotten from the dragon Esbern had sent her after before hurrying across the room and rummaging through her chest. He came back with what looked like a sewing kit, and she swallowed.

“You didn’t answer Cicero’s question, Listener.” His voice was calmer than she had ever heard it, and she looked to him in surprise. His gaze was trained on the cut as he began to sew it closed.

“It was a dragon.” His hands never faltered, and she was grateful for that. He was silent until he finished, tying it off and cutting the line. Looking to her, she could see the worry in his eyes, and was quick to reassure him. “It’s okay, Cicero, it’s...kind of something I deal with a lot.” His eyes were wide, and she sighed, wondering if she would feel better to get some of the weight of the world off her shoulders. No one at the Guild knew and certainly no one in the Sanctuary was aware, but she had preferred it that way. If either knew exactly who their leader was, she couldn’t guarantee they would be happy about it.

“Aerelin, you know you can trust Cicero, yes?” It was the first time in awhile that he’d used her name, and it crumbled her resolve. Sighing, she dropped her gaze to the linens in front of her, intent to finish her work with her wounds. To her surprise, Cicero plucked his gloves off and took over for her.

“Cicero, I will tell you, but you must keep this between us.” She waited until he had nodded. “I’m...the Dragonborn.” His hands only hesitated in their movements for a moment as his eyes met hers, surprise there. “It’s my duty to fight the dragons that now terrorize Skyrim. To make sure they are truly dead, forever.” He nodded slowly again, moving his gaze to his work again. Now that she had started, she found she couldn’t stop talking about it, wanting to get it all off her chest. “I absorb power from every dragon I kill. I train with an ancient dragon to learn their language. And one day, I will have to fight Alduin himself. I’m so worried...I may not survive.” Her voice cracking, she ducked her gaze, relief filling her at finally being able to tell someone of her struggle. She could never tell Esbern or Delphine of her fear, nor Paarthurnax; as the hero they all seemed to rely on, she couldn’t afford to show weakness. To her surprise, Cicero pulled her into a hug, pressing her face to his chest as his hand rubbed soothing circles into her back. Slowly, she wrapped her own arms around his middle, taking in the comfort he offered.

“Oh, dear Listener. Surely, you know your Family would never think less of you or turn against you for this.” She sighed, nodding slowly.

“I suppose I’m more worried that something will happen to you all.” Cicero moved to run a hand over her hair, soothing her further. “I know what will happen should I fail…”

“Cicero knows you won’t fail.” There was a conviction in his voice that boosted her own confidence. “Kind Aerelin will succeed and kill all the nasty dragons. And Cicero can help.” Her eyes widened, and she pulled back enough to look up at him. He seemed eager, and it made her stomach turn.

“No, Cicero. It’s too dangerous.” He was already shaking his head and she pulled away fully, standing and beginning to pace with her agitation. “I’m serious. I couldn’t live with myself if any of you was killed during my-” 

“Listener.” Aerelin jumped, cut off by the Night Mother’s voice in her head. Giving a small curse, she stopped her pacing. “I always knew you were destined for greatness. I provided you this Family for a reason.” Her brow furrowed as the Mother continued, with Cicero watching with interest. “You will have all the help you need to not only survive, but win this battle. Trust in us…” The voice faded, leaving a sense of calm over Aerelin as she rethought her reality. Sithis was not the only Daedra that she served; perhaps the others would help as well.

“Aerelin?” Cicero’s voice snapped her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see him standing closer than she remembered. “Cicero will help the Listener with her troubles. It’s what Family does.” She couldn’t stop a small smile from forming as she nodded, noting the smile that graced his features as well.

“Very well. If you, and the Night Mother, insist.” Gathering the supplies and his gloves, Cicero began to pack up. “Cicero?” Waiting until he turned around, she moved to give him another hug. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Listener.” With one last squeeze, Cicero took his leave, and Aerelin made her way to bed. She knew in the morning she would head for the Nightingale Sanctuary, to speak with Nocturnal herself.


	9. Chapter 9

Dawnstar wasn’t the best town to focus on a problem, and that made Aerelin find a better alternative. The beach head just down the way from the Sanctuary provided a quiet, secluded place to think; most of the citizens of Dawnstar kept to the town itself. Most days were bleary and wet, but on a rare day such as this one, the sun did it’s best to cut through the fog and clouds. Eyes closed, Aerelin focused in on her most recent problem, sorting through her limited options in fixing it.

“Listener!” Cicero’s voice wasn’t as much of a surprise as it should be; he’d taken to looking in on her more often, concerned that she may be in danger at every pass. She knew she should tell him to calm down, but in truth it felt nice to have someone genuinely worried about her. Opening one eye, she glanced towards him as he took a seat next to her on the stones, shifting until he could find some semblance of comfort.

“Hello, Cicero.” Her voice was calm and low, a tone she only ever was able to manage when she was completely calm. There was a few moments of silence as she shut her eye again.

“Is dear Aerelin meditating? Can Cicero join?” He had dropped the volume of his voice, though that manic tone still remained, and she was reminded of just what she had seen in his journals before the incident with Astrid. 

“I’m simply thinking, Cicero, but you are welcome to join me if you wish.” Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the sea air. Cicero looked out of the waves, though his hands drummed a steady beat on his thighs. 

“Does the Listener care to talk with Cicero about her thoughts?” He sounded so eager, and truth be told, there was no reason to keep it from him. Wordlessly, she slid him the parchment that she had gotten, waiting for him to read it.

“Someone dares to claim sweet Lady Aerelin’s title? To accuse and threaten?” Cicero sounded genuinely offended as he handed the note back. Nodding, she tucked the note back into one of her many pockets, dropping her gaze to the stones beneath her. “How can they claim such things?”

“I do not know, Cicero. But it doesn’t sit well with me. The men who had this letter were travelers, from Solstheim.” The land was technically in Morrowind, yet somehow still a part of Skyrim. Aerelin had been debating on going there to confront the imposter herself, but there was something in her gut that told her this was no mere crazy person. They had influence, which was scary enough. Deciding she would go prepared, Aerelin stood, determined to speak with Paarthurnax. Cicero stood as well, dusting his uniform off. “I need to speak with some people before I go to Solstheim.”

“Then Cicero will join you.” There was a conviction in his voice that told her she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Giving him a look, she couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her head.

“Fine, but only because I know you’ll only follow me if I say no.” They headed back towards the Sanctuary, and Aerelin told Cicero to go pack a bag for himself. While he ran off, she pullled Nazir and Babette aside, letting them know she planned to head to Solstheim for some official business and that she would be gone for awhile. Though they were clearly both curious as to what the official business was, they simply nodded and promised to keep the Sanctuary in one piece. When Nazir expressed concern for her safety, she shrugged and stated that Cicero would be accompanying her. Wordlessly, Babette handed off a bag of potions and poisons.

“Ready, Listener?” Cicero appeared then with both of their travel bags to her surprise, and she nodded. Bidding her brother and sister one last goodbye, she headed out with her jester, giving a high whistle for her horse as they stepped outside. It took some convincing to Cicero that sharing a horse would be faster, since Shadowmere was faster than any horse she’d seen in Skyrim yet, and soon they were off towards the Throat of the World. Cicero insisted on singing strange, demented songs, though she didn’t once complain. They only had need to camp twice before they began their climb up the mountain itself, and soon enough they were reaching the very summit. Noting Cicero’s shivers, she pulled her cloak off, wrapping it around him securely before continuing forward. The beat of wings was their only warning before Paarthurnax appeared above them, soaring around before landing on the ancient wall.

“Dovahkiin.” He bowed his head to her, his gaze focusing on Cicero. Aerelin stepped forward with a smile.

“Drem yol lok, dii fahdon.” She gave a bow of her own head, feeling her hair being pulled from her braid by the winds. “Zu’u bo yah hin aak.” 

“You bring a stranger to my mountain, Dovahkiin.” There was a wary note to the dragon’s tone, and Aerelin reached back blindly, feeling Cicero’s gloved hand in her own.

“He is a dear and trusted friend, Paarthurnax. A friend to us both.” Turning, she took note of the wonder in Cicero’s eyes as he looked up at the dragon. Glancing between them both, she turned to the jester fully and caught his gaze, dropping voice. “Speak respectfully, Cicero, as you would me or the Night Mother. And be sure to bow, okay?” Waiting for his nod, she turned back to the dragon. “Paarthurnax, I would like to introduce Cicero, Keeper of the Dark Brotherhood.”

“Drem yol lok, Keeper Cicero.”

“And hello to you, Paarthurnax the Dragon.” Cicero gave a bow of his head, much to Aerelin’s relief, though a smile grew on his face. “Cicero has never met a dragon before, oh no! How very exciting!” Paarthurnax chuckled low in his throat as he bowed his own head, convincing Aerelin she could relax, before turning his gaze to her.

“So, what is it you require my help with, little dov? A new word, perhaps?”

“Not a word. A name.” She dug through her pockets, pulling out the note as she strode closer to the dragon. “Miraak.” It was clear Paarthurnax was bothered by the name, but he waited patiently as she read off what she knew.

“Miraak. Daar los tahrodiis.” She frowned, tucking the note away and waiting for her ancient friend to continue. “He was Dovahkiin, as you are. The first of your kind.” Her heart sank a bit. If these cultists truly believed in the return of Miraak as well as the dragons, then it was more dangerous than she had thought.

“Please, tell me everything. I must know if I’m to stop his return.” Paarthurnax seemed to hesitate before nodding.

“Very well, little dov.” He glanced towards Cicero again, and she turned to see her friend shivering. Taking a few of the dead branches she had stored away, she stepped to one side, building him a fire with her Thu’um. Pulling him over, she ignored both his shocked look and the seemingly amused one on Paarthurnax’s face, waiting for the dragon to continue. “Miraak was one of the first of Alduin’s Dragon Priests. A powerful ally to have on the side of the dragons against humanity. However, he sought more.” Paarthurnax gave a shake of his shoulders, and she frowned. “He was tempted and enslaved by one of your Daedric Princes, the one called Hermaeus Mora. He rebelled against the dragons, and Alduin had him struck down. He is dead, and will stay that way.”

“No, Paarthurnax. If Miraak was claimed by a Daedric Prince, then he did not go to Sovngarde.” The dragon tilted his head to the side, a display of confusion and she shook her head. “I, too, serve the Daedra. They have their own forms of Afterlife in Oblivion. And as we both know, it is possible to cross back from the plains of Oblivion.”

“Then you must travel to Solstheim, Dovahkiin, and prevent his return. Without the help of the dragons, I fear he will be a truly formidable foe. Pray that your Daedra will help you as his surely does.” Aerelin nodded.

“Wise Paarthurnax, how can lowly Cicero help in this endeavor?” Though he didn’t leave the comfort of the fire, his voice carried well, and both heads turned to him.

“If the Dovahkiin has chosen you among her loyal followers to know of her mission, then you need only support her as best you can, mun. She will need your support and care.” Paarthurnax turned to her once again, a critical gleam in his eye. “Kos kein hi dreh ni meyz ol fin Sonaak drey.” Nodding slowly, she turned to gather Cicero to take him back down the mountain. Once they were back on the horse, Aerelin realized Cicero was going to learn more about her than she had originally ever intended.

“So, are we going to Solstheim now, Listener?” With her cloak and the fire, his shiver had stopped, and as they mounted Shadowmere she was grateful.

“No, Cicero. First, we need to find some dragons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS!  
> "Greetings, my friend. I've come to seek your guidance."  
> "This is dangerous."  
> "Be wary you do not become as the Dragon Priest did."


End file.
